


Trust In Me (And I’ll Trust In You)

by The_Amarathine_Carrion



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Trans Bernadetta von Varley, Trans Female Character, Watersports, is a gift and deserves to be worshipped, soft Dom Ignatz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Amarathine_Carrion/pseuds/The_Amarathine_Carrion
Summary: We love to see trans Bernie being worshipped like only artist Ignatz can do!! We do!
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Trust In Me (And I’ll Trust In You)

Bernadetta isn’t sure about it at first—but that’s how she feels about almost everything. Ignatz was sweet, right? He was harmless… as harmless as a person could be. He’d been her friend for a long time, even sending her letters and complimenting the snippets of her stories during those long five years she was isolated in the only place more terrifying than the dining hall. There’s a difference between being alone on purpose and being alone by order. It was better fighting a war than returning to prison a third time. 

They were all here now, and somehow she wasn’t as scared. Somehow, keeping Ignatz close by her side made doing things like this easier. And so, she’d let him kiss her. She’d let him press his palm against the back of her neck and pull her close. And she liked it—that was the scariest part! She really liked it! 

She’d let him kiss her, so every time he asked, she got a little braver. Her fingers, hooking into his back while his hands crept up the inside of her little purple dress. Grinding herself down on his thigh, palming the bulge in his small clothes while he continued to stroke her hair—whispering praises to encourage her whines. Eventually, she was leading him, showing him what she liked, little by little. Ignatz was so patient with her. He really took the time to listen to her body, to show how much he cared.

So when he asked her for one more thing, she really didn’t want to refuse. If there was anyone in the world she trusted enough to touch her like this, it was him.

The ropes are red, softer than she expected. Ignatz undresses her, kissing the creases of her wrists before he presses them together. He pulls them behind her back and begins to secure the position, resting just above her hips. She is trembling, but he knows not to stop, he knows that she has been waiting for this—wants it—just as much as him. He is silent, eyes sharp, movements focused. The pressure is perfect, and when he brushes his thumbs over her nipples, pulling experimentally at the end... _Oh,_ how she squirms. 

“Turn over for me. Put your ass in the air.”

Bernadetta gasps, but listens. Her body moves to follow Ignatz’s directions before her thoughts come—those few which are left. She is vaguely aware that she is hot—burning, in fact—the head of her tiny pink cock dripping a thin, sticky line to connect her to the mattress. 

“Already so wet.” Ignatz’s fingers ghost along the goosebumps of her thighs and she wants him to touch her, wants him to assure her, doesn’t want to feel so desperate and alone while exposed like this. “It’s okay.” His breath tickles and she shivers as he moves it, slowly, _too slowly,_ up her spine, across ribs and shoulder blades, blowing the little hairs that hardly cover the sensitive nerves at the back of her neck.“I’m so glad you like it.”

“ _Ignatz…”_ She can’t find the strength to continue, shoving her face sideways into the pillow to muffle her moan instead. Now would be the time where she would cover her mouth to catch her pleasure, rubbing herself against him until he finally took her—in his fist, the wet warmth of his mouth, even between the thick, slickened skin of his thighs, that one time. But she cannot, she’s restrained, bound to his will and she was in no way prepared for just how _wicked_ it would turn out to be. 

“I’m going to touch you now.” He starts by dipping his nose into the crook of her neck. His lips are soft and slightly parted, spreading moisture where they linger and he waits— _waits—_ for what seems like an excruciatingly long time while she is struggling to breathe, for her to indicate that she has heard him.

“Yes—I…that sounds..okay.” Her mouth feels numb, her tongue dry and useless. Ignatz’s hands finally make contact, holding her at her hips, thumb dipping into the hollows, stroking the curve of her abdomen. She’s boiling there already, and he’s only just grazed her. She wiggles her ass, seeking contact there as well, embarrassed but too agonized to suppress it. He smiles, and she can feel it, because his lips have not left her skin since she gave her word. By now they could devour her. She would let him take every inch if he desired it, just as long as he does not _stop._ She couldn’t bear it. 

“Please…” and she doesn’t know what she’s begging for. She doesn’t know what she wants, because what she has is already so much, so it’s not _more_ but something else, something…different. “Please.” She chokes, raising her head from the pillow to find him. He’s there, his hand sliding down her cheek, supporting her chin. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” 

He _knows_ , because of course he does, he knows her and he knows the words that she cannot say, hears the questions that she cannot ask. She is safer here, ropes digging intricate patterns into her flesh, than anywhere else, even in solitude.

“I want...” she flushes, still finding it hard to admit—hard to _believe._ “I want you to touch...inside of me.” 

“Of course.” She’s too dizzy to register that the voice is coming from behind her, so she squeaks when he hikes her ass up further, slipping one arm under her stomach to steady her. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

She nods, vigorously, then groans at the white stressing the corners of her eyes and the feeling of gel cooling her rim as Ignatz circles it. He pours more lube into his other palm, gripping her at the base and swiping his thumb over the precum beading again.

Ignatz presses in, letting his finger sink leisurely, moving the hand on her pretty little cock at the same languid pace, watching her slowly lose her mind, starved for more of his touch. Bernadetta can only rock so much against him without tipping over, but she tries— _she tries_ to urge him along with heightened pants and frenzied movements. He slips another finger in, refusing to give any additional answer to her pleas. It’s not enough, and it’s torture, and it’s holding her hostage at the edge of the tightrope. She’s teetering, the strings are fraying, and Ignatz is taking _too long_. The pressure is building and she’s unsure if he will finish her in time for her to take care of it. 

He slides in, curling when he’s pressed as far as his hand will allow, slides out halfway, then up again—searching for a harbor he’s entered and anchored many times before. At the first brush against it, her walls tighten, and so do her arms, straining to be freed, to stuff a fist into her wide, open mouth and bite down. 

“Ignatz!” She cries, and it’s curious how she flies when she falls. He’s there to catch her, to hold her firm and still as he’s suddenly thrusting into her, adding another finger, persistently nudging against that spot that drives her wild, fills her stomach with flames, bumps against corners of pleasure that she’s too afraid to explore on her own. He does not relent, on either front, milking her cock as he pounds her prostate, encouraged by the squeaks and sighs and lewd wet sounds of her body accepting his devotion. 

“You’re exquisite Bernadetta. That’s right, just like that...” 

Bernadetta is full, she’s so full and it’s so much that all she can do is lie there and bear it. She’s close, and it’s easy to tell. Ignatz slows, but becomes more precise, and that is more punishing. Every nerve inside of Bernadetta is screaming what she cannot. Her jaw remains dropped, tongue pushing saliva out of the corner of her mouth. The noises she makes are completely unrestrained, pitches swelling and plummeting within the same breath. The pressure at this point is close to bursting, not just from her swollen, leaking cock, but all of the organs knit together bumping her bladder against the muscles of her slender stomach. 

It’s wrong. It’s all wrong and yet it’s right and she doesn’t know if she can hold it back this time. He knows, _he must know,_ what he’s doing to her, and what will happen, but she panics, because they haven’t discussed it in length yet and she’s _so close_ if she doesn’t come soon she will _lose it._

“No, no, no Bernie! Not good—you can’t! Ignatz—!” She wails, spilling into his hand before she can stop herself, and he shushes her, letting it pool in his palm, rubbing it onto her cock again, stroking gently, still deep inside her and it’s _too much_ to handle. Tears sting her eyes as she feels her stomach plummet, the loss of control, the warm, wet liquid streaming copiously, sticking to her thighs, the sheets, coating Ignatz’s hand up beyond his wrists and he sits there, and he lets her. 

She sobs, wanting nothing more than for him to cut her free so she can run and hide her entire face in her hands. Her entire body trembles with shame, but he covers her like a bridge with his own, flipping her over and kissing all of the tears that stain her cheeks. 

“Hey. It’s okay. Listen, Bernadetta, I mean it. You’re okay. I’m still here.” 

Bernadetta blinks, focusing on his voice as he continues to reassure her. it’s true, he _is_ here. He’s not mad. She’s not in trouble. She’s...okay?

The bonds loosen, then fall away. She rubs numbly at her wrists, studying them, coming down from the height of emotions as he gathers the sheets together in a pile, dipping one of his cloths into a nearby basin of water to begin wiping her down. 

“I...you don’t need to do that! I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry!!”

“You don’t need to apologize.” The cloth is wrung out before it returns to soothe her again. “Thank you for trusting me to help you with this. Do you feel any better?”

Ignatz brushes her hair back, tracing the line of her neck, into her collarbones, trailing down to her navel as he kisses the tops of her breasts. Bernadetta’s breathing begins to stabilize. Her vision clears. “H...help? Better? Yeah I...I think I do.” 

The cloth is set to the side, and Bernadetta is pulled into his lap. She scrambles until Ignatz dips her head back, folding her legs up to hook underneath them so he can press her like an accordion to his chest. 

“Good. It means a lot to me. And just so know, it’s not just about your trust in me. I also trust in you.” 

Bernadetta isn’t sure about it at first, but she thinks that maybe saying you trust someone is just another way to tell them you’re in love. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thefriedpipes)! Come talk more about fe3h with me 🤗


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